A different path
by her illusion
Summary: AU. Was he regretting it now? Was this the day he would finally turn to them? (where Hermione was born in Snape's era)


"Not as smart as you think you are, huh, Snivellus? _This_ is what you deserve. You shouldn't have the right to walk around the school freely polluting it with your presence." Hermione was hurrying back to her dorm through a lesser used path, knowing that if she was caught out after curfew again she'd have a more serious punishment than just a warning for sure. She didn't want any detention on her record if she could help it. The vicious words caught her attention, despite the low volume they were hissed at, they could be clearly heard in the near silence. She paused for a moment, undecided if she should interfere. A split second later she was berating herself for that hesitation. It might be easier to walk off and pretend she hadn't heard anything but would she sleep well at night, when she knew she had knowingly abandoned someone who was obviously in need of help? She silently crept closer, and when she peeked around the corner, she had to clap her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp at what she saw.

She had expected some Slytherin to have ambushed an innocent Hufflepuff, perhaps, but this...maybe her mum was right about her needing to notice what happened around her more instead of always having her head in the clouds. She knew Sirius Black – who didn't, with the reputation for womanizing he had, that famed charm and arrogance which drew so many girls to him? And James Potter wasn't a surprise, those two were like 2 peas in a pod and you rarely saw 1 without the other. The other boy who was sprawled on the floor was vaguely familiar. He was a Slytherin, which she would have figured out by now even if she hadn't known better, given the green and silver tie. She'd heard of altercations between him and the Marauders, but dismissed it as a matter which didn't concern her after a brief thought that it didn't seem quite fair, to have 4 against 1 like that. She hadn't thought it was quite this bad, of course, that Gryffindors would resort to attacking people in dark corridors late at night like this.

She tried to shake off her shock and horror so she could think clearly again. What could she do? She darted a glance at the dark-haired boy, who was glaring at his tormentors in hate and fury despite his helpless state, with his arms tied behind his back and his wand being twirled around casually by Potter. She would hazard a guess that he had been Silenced, he didn't seem the type to not at least try to retaliate verbally otherwise. Her dilemma was soon solved by James, who helpfully suggested, "Hey Padfoot – let's leave him here with his wand out of reach and see who finds him. We can't afford to linger out here much longer either."

"Right. Tata, Snivellus. Have fun."

She pressed herself against the wall as the boys strode past, trusting the shadows and their preoccupation to hide her. Once she was sure they'd left, she hurried over, picking up the boy's wand and pressing it into his palm.

"Finite Incantatem!"

He freed himself as soon as he was able to speak, looking at her mistrustfully.

"Who're you? Their accomplice, to make sure they don't get into any trouble when I accuse them of having left me here all night? Black's latest conquest? Aren't you a bit young for his tastes, though?"

She shook her head frantically, shocked at his accusations.

"I'm not! They're just my Housemates and I couldn't just let them do that to you, it isn't – isn't right. I can't believe they would – I don't even know your name!"

"Severus. Severus Snape. You're not in our year." he said curtly after a moment, obviously deciding it wouldn't do any harm for her to know his name even if she was lying.

"I'm Hermione Granger. And yes, I'm a 4th year. Are you alright?" she added, watching him rub at his wrists.

He shrugged, a non response, but she wasn't going to push him any further, sensing it probably wouldn't be the smartest thing to do, given the mood he was likely in after that incident.

"Goodbye."

His tone spoke of dismissal, and although she wasn't fond of taking orders from near strangers, especially ones whose wellbeing she doubted, she nodded anyway. It didn't sit right with her to leave him sitting in the dark alone, but she couldn't very well force her company on him when he so clearly didn't desire it.

* * *

>"Nice to meet you, I guess. See you around?" She made the last sentence sound like a question even if she hadn't intended to, given how tentatively she had voiced it, but got no reply from him. She took one last glance at him, curled into himself with the moonlight shining softly onto his face, and left him staring into the distance.<p><p>

She had witnessed the last bit of that horrifying incident, far too late to help even had she wanted to. It was probably for the best, anyway – she would have made a lot of enemies if she'd defended him publicly, and even if that sounded like the reasoning Lupin might have used, at least she wasn't in any position of authority to threaten punishments to the students involved! She pitied him, a little, being obviously stuck between a rock and a hard place like that, but that wasn't the important part. She had to get to Severus – oh, what he had said had been _horrid_, but she was relatively sure he hadn't meant it maliciously the way his 'friends' used it. After that first time she had helped him out they had run into each other at the library a few more times – he seemed to be as studious as she was – he hadn't objected to her sharing his table, and they mostly sat there in almost companionable silence, doing their own things.

They weren't really friends, maybe, they'd made a few lines of awkward conversation here and there, but generally he didn't seem inclined to talk about himself and she felt strange telling him about herself without any reciprocation, so she knew much less about him that she would've liked. But one topic that had come up had been blood status, and though he was well aware of hers, he still acknowledged her anyway, and didn't treat her like the scum off his foot, and she'd heard he and Lily Evans were childhood friends. He'd been humiliated beyond belief, no doubt, and that pride of his wouldn't allow him to accept help gracefully in front of such a large and mocking audience, so he had lashed out badly. She found him where she had expected to, huddled in a corner of the Astronomy tower. He'd once revealed he appreciated the peace up there, so it was no surprise that he came here to seek solace now.

"Fuck off." His voice was hoarse, and she thought he might have been crying, not that she could see his eyes to confirm that since his back was to her. She skipped the questions about how he knew it was her – she had learned he had an uncanny sense of identifying people – and crouched down behind him, ignoring his words.

"What, going to call me a Mudblood too?" Her tone was light but he flinched at the word anyway, and she felt bad momentarily for inciting him like that just so she could get a response.

"I-I didn't-" he spoke so despairingly she was alarmed despite herself, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder to try to offer some comfort which he tensed at but didn't shake off.

"I know," she murmured, attempting to sound soothing, "you were just mad, weren't you?"

Without even waiting for his miserable nod to confirm her theory, she went on, "You didn't deserve that. She might have been hurt, but she shouldn't have left you to their mercy, nevertheless."

He shook his head in mute protest, but she disregarded it, given that much of what he had to be feeling now had to be self-loathing, that he had blurted out what he did.

"I shouldn't have said that."

He sounded exhausted, and Hermione felt her heart ache, for this boy who sounded years older than he should.

"Yes, you shouldn't, but that doesn't make her response right either. Come on, we shouldn't stay up here much longer."

She didn't quite manage to coax him down with her, but she did extract a promise from him that he would leave soon.

She had heard about how he'd camped outside the Gryffindor common room all night to beg for forgiveness from Lily, who hadn't accepted his apology despite the mockery he had to endure for that stunt. Similarly, she didn't know Lily personally, only by reputation, and she was a bright vivacious girl who rivaled James Potter in popularity, with the latter chasing after her wildly, constantly asking her out only to be rejected once again. Her opinion of the whole matter, though, was that although Lily didn't appear to be a bad sort, she could afford to be more understanding over Severus's predicament. Surely it wouldn't hurt to give him one last chance, given the extent he had gone to to try to make up for what he had said? She couldn't help but resent her a little, the pretty girl who could repudiate someone who had been her childhood friend so easily and caused Severus so much pain.

It wasn't like she caught him sobbing silently to himself – oh, he was much too controlled to let her find him in a vulnerable position like that if he could help it – but he was noticeably more unhappy than before, falling into moody brooding silences in the midst of browsing a book. She did her best to ignore it and pretend everything was the same as before – it wouldn't do any good to draw attention to it, she knew he wouldn't appreciate that - so this was the best she could come up with, when she knew there was nothing else she could really do to help matters and cheer him up again. She couldn't keep silent any longer, though, after he came back from yet another stint at the hospital wing noticeably more jumpy than before, less sure of himself somehow yet much more aggressive.

"Severus, tell me please, what's on your mind. It doesn't do you any good to bottle things up like that and you know I won't tell anyone."

She had expected more resistance from him than she got – the situation must have been graver than she thought. He needlessly turned to check that there was no one nearby, which wouldn't have mattered even if there had been given the silencing and privacy spells they always put up before turning to her, his eyes fever bright.

"Lupin – he's a werewolf! Black tricked me, fucking lured me and I fell for it. And now I owe Potter a life debt, and Dumbledore made me swear not to tell anyone else, that if I did he would expel me."

The story sounded far-fetched, almost ludicrous, but she knew he wouldn't lie about something as serious as this, not even if he wanted to smear their names, which he would have known was unneccessary anyway, since she didn't have any fondness for the gang either. The fear in his eyes was so naked, she wasn't sure whether from remembering the trauma of the incident or that she would take his tale as a joke like she suspected Evans had when he had tried to go to her with it, that she couldn't _not_ try to calm it. It was a huge contrast from his normal demeanor, where he was such a blank slate that it frustrated her often, because try as she might she could only guess wildly at his thoughts.

* * *

>"I believe you."<p><p>

Despite the confidences he had seen fit to trust her with, he grew increasingly distant from her as the time to his graduation drew nearer, more hostile and unfriendly, and their studying 'sessions' in the library were all but non-existent. One could have put it off to stress from the upcoming NEWTs, perhaps, but deep inside she knew that he had chosen the path he wanted to follow, and there was nothing she could do to sway him from it. She felt that Severus was like a dog with a bone sometimes, that once he got hold of an idea he would hard-headedly hold on to it with both hands despite any advice to do otherwise. She still held hope that he would come back to the Light, though. He might not be pleasant to deal with, could in fact be cutting with his sarcasm, but you got used to his snappishness over time. What were friends for, after all, if they didn't accept you for who you were, bad temper and all, and kept trying to change you, mould you into someone they felt ideal? If he were friendly, nice and god forbid – cheerful, he wouldn't be Severus Snape anymore.

She knew he was good at heart, despite his slightly unhealthy obsession with Dark spells. She understood, a little, that hunger to know more about something people told you was forbidden, even if she didn't share his fascination. She was roped into joining the Order, her Arithmancy professor claiming they could use someone with her talent on their side, and more hands made light work, didn't they? They didn't send her out to the frontline, which she was thankful for. She couldn't have handled it, knowing she might be facing him out she was a rather incognito member who didn't come into contact with Lily or the Marauders much. She didn't keep in contact with Severus – she didn't expect him to initiate any correspondence, given the position he had to be trying to cultivate, and though there was a hollow space inside her that spoke of regret for her friend, she was able to ignore it and focus on the tasks she was assigned most of the time. She couldn't have brought herself to hurt him despite his choice, despite the fact that he could be using that amazing talent he had for Potions to brew all sorts of poisons for Voldemort now.

She struggled with guilt over that sometimes – if it was justified to not hate him for what he could be doing, or had probably done, the faceless horrors she could only imagine he had helped commit. She didn't kid herself that he wasn't a part of the cruelty and violence, she was more of a realist than that. Was he regretting it now? Was this the day he would finally turn to them? Thoughts like this haunted her almost daily. She felt like it was a betrayal, having kind thoughts towards him when he was supposed to be the enemy. The ones they were fighting against. But first and foremost, he had been her friend, before he had made any foolish mistakes, gone onto a path that she couldn't approve of no matter which way she looked at it, and she couldn't understand why Lily didn't see it the way she did. She supposed it would be unfair, though, to put the blame on her for not sticking by Severus like she had. It wasn't an easy route, that was for sure. It was hard to reconcile still caring for him with the atrocities he could have committed.

She'd heard the stories - they tortured children and _enjoyed_ it, for Merlin's sake. She could only hope she was brave enough not to recoil from him in disgust if he admitted to her to being a part of that, even if he had taken no pleasure in it. Because what he needed wasn't her judgement – from experience, she knew he would be hard enough on himself, without needing any further chastisement from anyone else, she doubted he had changed to such an extent that he would actually take joy in such perversions – it was unconditional understanding and support. She _was_ proven right, eventually. She received a Patronus from Dumbledore one night asking her to come to his office, only to encounter a clearly distraught Severus who looked at the Headmaster with near betrayal in his eyes.

"I think I'll just leave you two to it."

Even in such a serious situation, the old man's eyes still held their customary merry twinkle as he uttered that statement, which was frustratingly unclear as he tended to be. Hermione was rather bewildered, but using her skills of inference, deduced this had to have something to do with the Potters' death. She said as much to Severus, who seemed to take it as an accusation of sorts and retorted, "Yes, everyone was right about me all along. Are you happy now? It was my fault they died."

The bitterness was thick in his words, and she would have demanded an explanation in greater detail if she hadn't felt like she needed to dismiss the misconception he seemed to have.

"I could never rejoice in your misery, Severus. I never blamed you for your choice, I had a feeling you would turn back to the right path in the end, and here you are."

Her words were less than eloquent – she hadn't the talent with words that Severus did when he was composed, since he was obviously far from in his best form now – but they seemed to be sufficient for him, who relaxed minutely and stopped recoiling from her attempt to approach him. She sprang back from where they had been holding each other, blushing, when Dumbledore entered the room again. Meddling old man that he may be, she wasn't about to complain on this occasion when she had finally been reunited with Severus. She did get the full story later, surprisingly, after she'd been sworn to silence on it, of course, but nevertheless...she supposed she had known part of it all along. It hadn't been a hard conclusion to come to, seeing his reactions towards Lily, you didn't need a genius to guess that his motivations were driven by devotion. And love, as much as a multitude of others would think him incapable of it.

Time passed, and their friendship flourished. He was thankful for her steady presence, even if he never said as much in so many words, especially given the outcry from the public when he had been spared from Azkaban after Dumbledore had testified on his behalf. Mistrust and hatred were rife in the air, and with the guilt over the death of innocents that he had caused, albiet indirectly, still hanging over him, without Hermione he might have been more tempted than he was to take his own life simply to escape from it all. After all, he'd done his duty, hadn't he? And what else was there to live for now, when there wasn't anyone who cared whether he was dead? Most of people would probably rejoice in it, he thought, felt like he had gotten his just desserts. She proved him wrong on the last point often, trying in her own little ways to help him out, gently chiding him for letting his quarters get as messy as they did, as he had forbidden the elves to enter, stating he didn't want them interfering with his possessions. She tried to engage him in small talk or games of chess sometimes, and occasionally he played along, simply for the reward of her smile when he gave in. Lily's loss was still near debilitating, but her being there did make things slightly better.

She gave him faith, and human warmth that most others were leery of offering him either from his reputation or intimidating demeanor. He wasn't likely to respond to friendly advances nicely now, at any rate – his nightmares kept him up enough to make his temper shorter than it normally was, and he had no patience to try to deal with hurt feelings from his brushoffs. Hermione had known him for longer and was used to him, knew when not to bother him and when she could try to chivvy him out of his dark moods. He honestly had no clue why she insisted on sticking with him, surely she could find better friends out there who were more appreciative of her efforts? She got stroppy the one time he tried to ask if it had been an order from Dumbledore though, so he decided to just stop questioning things and enjoy his good fortune in having someone like her in his life. Unwavering loyalty was something he was unused to, something most people wouldn't think could be trusted to a Slytherin. She put up with him, though, through his drunken ramblings which she patiently nodded along with, and he would wake up covered with a blanket with a vial of Hangover potion beside him, through his diatribes on the dunderheads he had to teach.

She accepted his unspoken apologies each time he threw her out of his chambers in a temper for things he realised later on were frankly unreasonable, never demanding of him more than he could give. He thought she was lonely, sometimes, but she never left him alone when she could help it, even if he'd told her she was free to leave to do her own things. Not that he would say her concern for him doing something stupid was unjustified, sometimes when he was alone the voices in his head would rise up, telling him he didn't deserve to live after the destruction his choices had resulted in, even if it hadn't such a terrible end result, that it would make her life easier if he was just gone then she wouldn't have to deal with a burden like him anymore. He was barely coping, even with the distraction of work. He didn't think she had romantic intentions towards him, though what did he know of those matters? At the very least, she didn't appear to be trying to seduce him, which was good, because for now he would be totally unable to reciprocate her feelings at all. The hole in his heart was still too raw for him to try to fit someone new inside, and perhaps he was thinking too highly of himself anyway.

Who would want _him_, greasy-haired, and unattractive with a humongous nose? She was the best candidate he could ask for, though, someone who cared for him as he was, nasty anti-social personality and all. He had never had to put up any pretences with her, unlike with Lily where he had to tone down his instinctive retorts to prevent her horrified exclamations. And sometimes she made him want to be a better person than he was, just so he could feel more worthy of her friendship. Initially, it felt like he was betraying Lily, which he knew all too well was illogical, for Lily had never loved him back, anyway. Not in the way he wanted. And she had left him when he needed her most, refused to look at how things seemed like from his end, turned a deaf ear when he attempted to explain his reasoning. It still didn't remove how he'd felt for her, things weren't as clear cut as that. The hurt still cut like broken glass, and he was more inclined to leave_those_ matters alone than anything, because self-reflection stung like a bitch.

They said you shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Was it unreasonable, to feel cheated out of any chance at forgiveness? Whether he granted her any, no less, not if she deigned to finally exercise those Gryffindor traits and _do the right thing, _be the better person and look past what he had uttered on that day at last. It was hypocritical, he thought, in his bitterer moments, it wasn't like _she_ hadn't yelled truly horrid things at him when she'd been riled up either. And he'd always took things in stride when she came to him later all full of remorse, hadn't he? Told her it didn't matter, that it was alright because he knew things shouted in the heat of anger generally weren't meant in the heartfelt sort of way. He'd had too much experience regarding that personally – he was mostly the epitome of self-control, but once he lost it...he knew he could be spiteful beyond belief, but he couldn't _help_ it, for Merlin's sake. Was it such a crime, to not be able to be perfect and say all the right things everytime? Even though he knew he was far from it, even in his daily life, but it wasn't like he'd wished to be born this way, to not be able to smile and say all the platitudes most people were never sincere about,anyway.

They said honesty was the best policy, but all he got for his uncensored remarks was disapproval. Shouldn't it be about the intention and motive behind what was said? He didn't get what was wrong with not wanting to be two-faced and pretend you cared for something you didn't. He had done that too, he supposed, in acting as a spy, but that was something else altogether in his books. That was to help end the war. _Hermione_ didn't seem to despise his outlook on things, at the very least, he had unintentionally managed to make her laugh at some of his biting remarks about others. So why hadn't _Lily_ been able to accept him? He had thought she had, when she hadn't abandoned him at the first opportunity, when they had been sorted into rival houses, yet she had continued their friendship despite the widespread disapproval and whispers that he had brainwashed her, that he must have drugged her or cast some sort of spell on her. She had defended him, and he had loved her for it, even through his hurt pride, that she would care enough about him to stand up for him.

He wasn't sure if it had been worse, her actions after all they had been through, that she had given him false hope, in the end. That his thoughts about _maybe this will last, after all, _had turned out to just be another hopeful lie again. And now he was left like this, with all his screwed out thoughts and feelings and no way to resolve them, because she was _dead_. And even as he sort of blamed her, they had been friends for _years_, and that wasn't something that just faded away, despite everything else that had happened. He wasn't sure how much Hermione knew – he wasn't an idiot, as much as she tried to pretend she was still utterly ignorant of how he'd felt, he knew he had to have given away some tidbits here and there while he was drunk. She wasn't stupid, she would've figured it out. It was part of why he did it, truthfully. He needed to vent, and he didn't have enough courage to do it without the influence of alcohol, without the ready excuse it gave him to claim that he would have never revealed something like that in his right mind. And he wouldn't have.

He found it hard to speak of his feelings even under normal circumstances, and something like this, which was so complicated that even he still hadn't figured it out himself...it was asking too much of him, something far beyond his abilities to open up about. He could only hope and pray that one of these confessions wouldn't send her running as far from him as she could get. He wasn't sure if he could survive something like that again, especially now, when he wasn't exactly stable. It would likely push him off the edge, and he didn't want her to blame herself for life for being the one to cause his death. Not when she wouldn't really be at fault even if she chose to not bother with him anymore, when he knew he was far from easy to deal with and maybe even almost unbearable when she had to face him so often, on a daily basis. She should even get a medal, for voluntarily subjecting herself to his behaviour. He was so far from the model of a perfect gentleman that it was almost laughable.

He wasn't sure if the fact that she came back for more regardless of whatever abuse he hurled at her spoke volumes about her perserverance, her morality, or maybe that she saw something in him that he didn't even see himself. Whatever it was...he wasn't self-destructive enough to try to actively chase her away, even if he needed her too much for his own good and it scared him sometimes. Things changed, gradually. The nights of drunken confessions dwindled, to be replaced by his again slowly growing interest in Potions experimentation, which had died a swift death after his horror at what his genius had managed to make, vicious slow-acting poisons which had greatly pleased his lord back then. Hermione joined him in the lab sometimes – she hadn't the instincts he did, but what she did have in abundance was interest and determination, and he was grateful enough for someone to share his passion with that he wasn't half as vicious as he could have been in answering some of the questions she had about his work. She would nod along as he expounded on his theories and ask about his reasoning for the processes he chose, and it was something he wasn't used to, having someone actually bother to listen and understand a subject which made up so much of his soul.

Lily had tried a little, in the past, but she wasn't fiercely intellectual the way Hermione was and he eventually stopped bothering when he sensed that his explanations were boring her. She would exclaim over his brilliance when he invented something new, but the logic behind how he had managed it, she wasn't so concerned about.

She worried for Severus constantly. She didn't think the way he was carrying on was healthy, but hell, after what he'd been through, maybe it was surprisingly well already. She did get frustrated with him, since it clearly wasn't pleasant to be shouted at to leave for almost no reason at all, but she generally obliged without much objection anyway. She had learnt there was no reasoning with him in those moods, and he would later apologize in his own way, never verbally, but she thought he might have been forever put off that after his experience with Lily. She could see his remorse, though, and concluded he probably couldn't quite help it. He had never been the best at handling his feelings, and this overload was likely more than he knew how to deal with. Who was she to begrudge his methods of surviving when she hadn't been through the things he had? He had never told her explicitly, but from hints he'd dropped, she suspected he had had an abusive childhood, with a neglectful mother. He had never really known love, so there was no surprise he clung so hard to the 1 he felt had first offered it to him, even if it was merely in a platonic way, and what it must have cost him, to have the fact that he had been involved with her death constantly playing in the back of his mind.

She had finally admitted to herself she cared more for Severus than she should. It was a miracle how she had fallen for him, really, given their rather limited interaction and his less than welcoming personality. His moods were especially hard to deal with nowadays, but she dealt with it, was consistently there for him the only way she knew how, even if all she got in response to her gentle nagging was a non-commital grunt. She knew better than to try to introduce any romance into their friendship now, it was far too soon for him to try that with anyone. If it was meant to be, it would be. She was busy enough anyway, assisting her Arithmancy professor with teaching some of the lower levels' classes and slowly preparing to take over more as she was ready for retirement. She didn't quite dare to leave Severus alone either – she thought she saw hints of something in his eyes sometimes, and though she wasn't sure whether he could be diagnosed as depressed, since the wizardng world was alarmingly backward in terms of knowledge of mental health, she thought it better safe than sorry to take precautions to stop his inner monologue which she had learnt was full of self-blame and unendingly dismal from having any chance to take over and result in him doing something foolish.

She couldn't quite remove all danger, considering wizards didn't even need sharp objects around when there was always _Diffindo_ or even worse, _Sectumsempra_, so the best she could do was to try to keep his mind off thoughts like that. She wasn't sure how successful her efforts were, but frankly, she concluded she had to be doing something right since he was still alive, right? The drinking himself into a stupor bit happened more than she liked, but she supposed that bit wasn't too bad. He didn't do it as often as he could, possibly out of a sense of responsibility towards his students, or maybe because it reminded him of his father – that was something he had revealed to her by accident, he tended to talk more unreservedly when he was drunk. Dumbledore left them mostly to their own devices, which she was alternately grateful for and angry about, that he at least didn't try to berate Severus to do a better job and pull himself together but yet didn't care enough to try to talk to someone he might, in future, send into danger time and again for vital information.

Things changed, gradually. He wasn't even quite sure how, but time passed and he was slowly able to start noticing things like how he actually liked the bushy hair she was so self-conscious about without thoughts of Lily intruding. He had surprised her, he knew, by suggesting they go out for a drink, even if it was at a Muggle pub where no one would recognise and level accusations at him. The approval in her eyes spurred him on to greater efforts to connect to the world again, and eventually, he managed to gather enough courage to ask her out. She accepted readily, without the hesitation he was expecting, and though they would perhaps never be an altogether normal couple – he had too many issues for that – they were happy together. When he was promoted to Head of Slytherin, his Slytherins even learnt to like her for who she was, which was surprising for such a normally mistrustful batch of students, but to him not so. After all, she had won him over, hadn't she?


End file.
